


Hello John

by dyella



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU in which series 3 didn't actually happen, Dark, Gen, Horror, John has nightmares, One Shot, Post-Reichenbach, some are real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 08:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyella/pseuds/dyella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has nightmares. Some are real.</p>
<p>One-Shot</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hello John

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt inspired by this image:  
> [](http://s1016.photobucket.com/user/tgmtnait/media/1609875_688930887825225_853347231_n_zpseadce0bd.jpg.html)
> 
> My friend has posted it on Facebook, and long story short, I had an idea for a one-shot AU where Series 3 never actually happened. I was just winging it with this one, so I hope y'all enjoy!

“You were right. I don’t have friends ... I’ve just got one.”

“Goodbye, John ...”

“SHERLOCK!”

* * *

 

John sat upright in bed with a start, his hand immediately clutching Mary’s wrist in anxiety. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, and it wasn’t likely to be the last. In fact, it had become such a habit that Mary hardly even woke up anymore, just mumbled “John, what’s the matter?” in that groggy, sleepy voice of hers. It took John a while to regain his bearings. Then again, it always took that long. He never woke up with an urgent want to remember that his best friend was gone, _is_ gone, _has been_ gone for two years now. And he was never, ever coming back. There was once ... John had once dreamed that somehow, after all the years and after all the mess Sherlock had caused, he came back; that it was all a ruse, something Sherlock had to keep secret from John so he could successfully take down Moriarty’s network. It was a particularly vivid dream. John, of course, was furious with Sherlock for lying to him, but after Sherlock saved his life (twice) John had come to forgive him, and not only did he go on to share his life with Mary, but got to continue sharing his life with Sherlock too. He was John’s best man, told John and Mary about their pregnancy, and even killed a man to save John’s life. But ultimately, it had all been a dream.

Sherlock Holmes was dead, and there was no way around it.

But there were a few ways to cope with it.

Mary had fallen back asleep in a flash, so, carefully as not to disturb her again, John released his grasp on her wrist and slid out of bed, taking with him his laptop he left on the nightstand. He settled himself into the couch in the sitting room of their flat, taking a moment before opening up the laptop.

When the dreams (or often, nightmares) started happening more and more frequently, John found he was having a harder time coming back from them. He was finding little positivity in his life, and with the vivid nature his dreams had taken on, it was hard to distinguish what were his actual memories with Sherlock and what was make believe. So, to make things easier, he had taken to reading through his blog. Never writing. No, he probably would never do that again. After all, nothing interesting had happened to him anymore. But he would read, and reread, and reread some more. He would read the quick little updates he wrote that Sherlock would comment on. He would read all their different cases and be reminded how bloody brilliant Sherlock could be sometimes. And occasionally, if he was really in a bad way, he’d read the posts from when he first met Sherlock, and when his life had virtually changed forever.

John had begun typing in the URL for his blog, when he noticed something funny on his computer: The webcam light was on. Even if John frequently used his webcam, he had never opened up the application, and therefore there was no reason for his computer to be accessing the camera. He slowly placed his laptop on the coffee table, distancing himself as he waited to see if the light would go away or not. For a second, it seemed it had turned off, but then it came back on and started blinking. Suddenly, a new window popped up and covered the entirety of John’s screen. His heart started racing at the phenomenon. Had someone hacked into his computer? Did he have a virus? Was this a government thing? He was just about to close the lid and worry more about it in the morning when a shape appeared in the window. It was pixelated at first, but as the resolution improved, John realized it was -- wait, no, it couldn’t be.

It was Sherlock.

“Hello John. Miss me?” Sherlock’s face grinned that cheeky, smug grin he always had on when he was being clever. John couldn’t believe it, and absolutely refused to.

“Sh-sh-sh... Sherlock?” John was shaking. No, no, no, he was still dreaming. He had to wake up. He couldn’t handle going through this all again.

“Hello John.”

“Sherlock, what are you ... ? HOW are you ... ? Are you really back?”

“Of course. I’d be lost without my blogger.” John felt like he was melting, both in anger and excitement and dread that it really was a dream.

“You’re ... back.” He stated more-so than asked.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“An apology. We’ll just have to do it like this.” John froze. There was something not right.

“Okay ... well, first, how? How are you here? How did you survive?” John stared at his screen with wide-eyed skepticism. Sherlock’s face was mostly expressionless. While not unusual, it looked borderline unnatural.

“A trick. A magic trick.” Wait. No.

John hated himself for believing it for one bit.

Either his mind was playing cruel tricks on him once again, or someone else was playing an even crueler practical joke. Either way, he felt it was time to walk away. He stood up, but before he could make any progress, he heard in a distorted voice; “No, stay exactly where you are. Don’t move.”

John wasn’t sure if it was the memory or the distortion that did it, but a chill ran up his back. Something told him he shouldn’t look back at his computer screen, but either way he felt compelled to. He slowly brought his eyes back to the monitor, and stared in horror as Sherlock’s face began distorting along with his voice.

“Hello John” it kept repeating, over and over again, dropping octaves and octaves more. “Hello John. Hello John. Hello John. Miss me?” John’s heart began racing again. Someone had gotten into his computer somehow. That had to be it. He would just unplug it. With the faulty battery, it should die almost immediately.

It didn’t.

John tried to see if there was a way he could click out of the window.

He couldn’t.

The picture kept becoming more and more distorted, with Sherlock’s face possessing the most menacing of grins. John couldn’t bare to look at it.

He just tried shutting the laptop.

The voice only got louder and stronger.

“Hello John. Just you and me against the rest of the world. Miss me?” The voice sounded like the Devil himself. John had no means of making it go away. He couldn’t shut down the webcam. He couldn’t force his computer to shut down. Even when the “power” was off, the screen remained, and the voice got even more powerful. He was afraid it would wake Mary.

“Sherlock, stop it, stop it now.” John knew this was beyond his dead friend’s capabilities, but he had no one else to address at this point. “Sherlock, Sherlock you hear me. Whatever this business is, stop it right now. This isn’t funny. This isn’t funny!” John was yelling now. He didn’t care if Mary woke up anymore. He was in a panic. The voice wouldn’t stop.

“Hello John. Hello John. Hello John.”

“Sherlock, please, leave me be!”

“Hello John. Miss me?”

“Sherlock!

“Miss me? Miss me? Did you miss me?”

“ ... _No_.”

  
But that was the last word John ever had a chance to say, because in his panic, he didn’t see the small red light pointing at his skull through the window. The only thing he had a chance to see in that very last second was the cold, smiling face of Jim Moriarty filling his screen.

“Did you miss me?”


End file.
